


filtering in

by i_was_human



Category: Lost in Translation (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Feels, Love, M/M, Melancholy, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Purple Prose, Relationship Study, introducing canon to my baseball bat round two electric boogaloo, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27544195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_was_human/pseuds/i_was_human
Summary: and to anyone else on the outside looking in, maybe they would be in love. maybe an impartial third party would call it that. minsung wouldn't know. he's never asked.or: a companion toparison minsung's side
Relationships: Kang Dongho | D.Min/Lee Minsung
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	filtering in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iamliterallyahotpocket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamliterallyahotpocket/gifts).



at his core, minsung is a romantic.

he's always had that dream - the picket fence, the house with two kids and a loving partner - so _isn't it funny_ how being with dongho is the antithesis of that?

 _being with_ in the most physical form, because he doubts dongho feels any more - _knows_ he isn't that much of a romantic - but he clings to his thoughts anyways, clings to what they have with both hands and _refuses_ to let go.

and to anyone else on the outside looking in, maybe they _would_ be in love. maybe an impartial third party would call it that. minsung wouldn't know. he's never asked.

all the same, there is him, and there is dongho, and there is _them_ \- whatever they are; undefined third parties in the ether - and there is the way minsung's breath catches in his throat when he sees dongho on the screen, the way he smiles when he sees dongho's contact pop up on his phone, the way dongho's arms feel like _home_ -

they do not label it.

it's simpler that way - simpler for both of them, with their senses of _love_ and _forever_ permanently fucked up by parents who saw them as little more than robots - but sometimes, minsung wishes things could be a little more complex.

...

he could have called them boyfriends, once.

he could have called them boyfriends, once, when dongho wasn't lying on the bed next to him, dark hair sprawled over the sheets and lips slightly parted - could've called them boyfriends back before minsung was anybody and dongho was somebody and they had something to lose.

he could have, once. 

but they've never really brought more feelings than is necessary into this, never put labels on it, and though minsung likes that, the traitorous part of his mind wonders _what if_?

he reaches over, letting his hand rest in dongho's hair - it's clumpy, stuck together with hairspray - and a part of him notes that this is probably the second...? second time he's seen dongho without all of d.min being left at the door.

sometimes he wishes he had a stage name. if nothing else, to separate who he is here and who he is out there.

his fingers gently coax the matted strands apart, tugging softly at any particularly tangled spots, and dongho relaxes into the sheets, looking, for an instant, like the boy minsung met all those years ago. it's strange, seeing him like this - realizing his heart is owned by someone so far from the fairy-tale romance he used to dream of - but he'd have it no other way.

(lie.)

* * *

he has to leave before the sun rises.

dongho's still out, face illuminated only by the thin rays filtering through the windows, and minsung takes a seat by his side, allowing himself a moment to stare.

a moment. nothing more.

it's so easy to imagine, when things are like this - easy to imagine that this means anything more than _nothing_ \- and minsung's heart twists in his chest at the thought.

something more than nothing.

what could that be like?

it would be warm, he decides, warmer than the bits of sun they can snatch from an unfeeling world. it would be warm - the full force of summer - and they could be together, turning nothing into something into everything.

but minsung's always painted his dreams with the brightest fluorescents, leaving only black-and-white for his day-to-day, and so this, as with everything else, will remain an illusion.

funny how that works, isn't it?

his hand falls to his side, the faintest bit of light dancing over his knuckles, and he exhales, the motion stirring strands of pastel hair.

it's most aching when it's like this, he thinks - most aching when there's such a blatant and aching gap between his desires and capabilities, most aching when fantasy collides with reality, most aching when dongho's here and asleep and so, so close, but minsung can't touch him, can't kiss him.

he can only look.

it's a beautifully dismal state of affairs, he thinks, pushing himself to his feet and yanking off his (dongho's) shirt, but this smallest bit of something is better than nothing.

keys, wallet, phone. he can pack up his entire presence in less than five minutes.

once he's done, it doesn't look like he was ever here at all. 

(that's how it always goes, isn't it?)

he pushes open the door, hesitating, as always, for an instant at the doorway.

he wants to stay. wants this to be something more than contraband. wants _them_ to be _something_.

but, as always, he slips out the door without a sound, the slab of metal shutting with a gentle "thunk".

there is no place for him, here.

**Author's Note:**

> for the person who a. likes dongsung and b. talked me into finishing this hehe
> 
> sorry it's so short T-T i just thought it ended well here
> 
> [twit](https://twitter.com/i_was_human_) | [lit fic discord!](https://discord.gg/CNunB74)


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